


Just Sign on the Dotted Line

by vwoompewpew



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I have no idea how BuzzFeed is run btw, I'm not sure if Shayn is the official ship name but it's the one I've gone for, Like stupidly oblivious!Ryan, M/M, Pining, Rating May Change, Ryan gets dramatic when his feelings are hurt, Slow Burn, Swearing, oblivious!ryan, oblivious!shane, shyan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-12 21:25:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13555887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vwoompewpew/pseuds/vwoompewpew
Summary: Mr Hauser smiles. "We want to help Unsolved reach out to as many consumers as possible and achieve its full potential.”“By...” There’s a lump in Ryan’s throat and he can’t finish the sentence.The executive spreads his hands out, palms up, in Ryan and Shane's direction. “By giving the fans exactly what they want.”“And… that would be...”“What the fans want, gentlemen,” the higher up pauses just long enough to grin widely at them, showing off a row of bleach white teeth, his eyes glinting oddly, “is Shyan.”OR that time BuzzFeed bosses make Ryan and Shane fake a relationship for more views, only for everything to go balls-up.





	Just Sign on the Dotted Line

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thanks for clicking on my story. Just a quick heads up:
> 
> This is the first piece of writing I have produced in 6 years, so of course I have to go all out and write a freaking novel. I'm really excited to get back into writing but I am rusty as hell and it probably shows, so fair warning.
> 
> I'm also British and so there is going to be a lot of British spelling and idioms. I tried to make the boys sound American and failed. I started writing this when the first UK episode came out, so I am basing this on a what-if scenario where the boys get a chance to pick an extra location anywhere in the UK for their season finale.
> 
> This story is also unbeta-ed, therefore any and all mistakes (and I can guarantee there will be some) are all on me. 
> 
> The rating may change to E, depending on how confident I feel in my writing as the story progresses.
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @ vwoompewpew if you have any questions, or just want to gush over these two lovable idiots.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy and please leave a comment if you've got the time!

There is a high-pitched ringing in his ears.

The higher up in front of him keeps talking like he hasn’t just turned Ryan’s world on its side, but his words are faint and muffled to Ryan’s ears, and Ryan catches nothing. His head has completely short-circuited, his heartbeat is a jittery mess. The white noise is all he can focus on. That is, until he catches a jerky movement from the corner of his eye that reminds him: _Shane._

He turns his wide eyes to the big guy next to him, hoping that Shane can provide answers as he usually does, but sees that Shane is struggling just as much as him. Shane’s face is screwed up so tightly it makes his head look like a giant prune, and any other time Ryan would point and laugh and call him an idiot.

Shane’s eyes lock with his and they share a long, wide-eyed stare. Ryan knows he looks just as incredulous, just as lost as his co-star.

Their superior is still droning on behind his desk and the longer Ryan stares at Shane’s perplexed expression the louder the ringing gets and the harder his heart hammers against his chest and, wait, when was the last time he took a breath? It’s suddenly all too much.

“—and with this change you’ll receive a bigger budget, more artistic freedom...”

“Wait—Mr. Hauser, sir, just—” Ryan finally bursts as his fingers curl tight around the arms of his chair, knuckles white. It helps to ground him in the moment. “—just please… wait.” His voice cracks at the end but he doesn’t give a shit because what the fuck is going on? His head is still completely scrambled as he tries his best to articulate, “I’m just—what?” He tries once again, “I mean, uh, can you repeat that, sir?”

Mr. Hauser’s smile is patient, if a bit tight-lipped. He leans forward in his leather seat and steeples his hands together on the desk in front of him. He explains, “Of the many videographers BuzzFeed has currently employed, you, Ryan, have managed to create a series that has attracted _, by far,_ the biggest number of followers BuzzFeed has ever seen.” Ryan isn’t dazed enough not to preen a little at that. “It’s only natural for myself and my colleagues to take an interest, to want to invest in your project. We want to help Unsolved reach out to as many consumers as possible and achieve its full potential.”

“By...” There’s a lump in Ryan’s throat and he can’t finish the sentence. _He can’t._

The executive spreads his hands out, palms up, in their direction. “By giving the fans exactly what they want.”

“And… that would be...” Ryan gradually manages to prod, then holds his breath and he knows without looking that Shane is doing the same thing.

“What the fans want, gentlemen,” the higher up pauses just long enough to grin widely at them, showing off a row of bleach white teeth, his eyes glinting oddly, “is ‘Shyan’.”

Something awful inside of Ryan falls like a heavy weight to the pit of his stomach and he’s left unable to react at all. Shane is silent beside him.

At their blank stare, Hauser frowns, then leans back in his chair and gestures to them with a sweep of his hand. “I find it hard to believe two ‘internet famous’ co-stars as in touch with their fans as the two of you are have never heard of Shyan. The group that supports this... notion, if you’d like, makes up the largest section of your audience, after all. Do you know what Shyan is? Is this where you are getting confused?”

Ryan blinks. “You think _that_ is where—?” Ryan is cut off by a sudden snort beside him.

Ryan turns to Shane, unwilling to believe his ears, and finds Shane cackling into his fist. His shoulders bounce with every snort and he’s practically bent in half. He even goes as far as to slap his knee. Then he swivels to Ryan, still laughing unabashedly, and looks at him encouragingly, as if he believes Ryan’s in on the joke too. Instead of laughing, Ryan glances over to Hauser and finds he looks less than amused.

“Uh...”

Shane turns to Hauser too. “T-This,” Shane wheezes out before losing it again. It takes him a moment too long to recover before he continues, “G… Good joke, bossman. 10/10 from the Shaniacs. You almost had me there.” Shane pretends to wipe a tear from his eye and Ryan wants to punch him.

Their superior visibly clenches his jaw. “If you are quite finished, Mr. Madej.”

Shane’s giggles lessen when he registers the poison dripping from Hauser’s words, then he glances hesitantly over to Ryan, who glares, and when he _finally_ realises he is the only one laughing, he clears his throat awkwardly.

Ryan shifts in his seat and tries to placate the situation. “What I think Shane is trying to get at, sir,”—here Ryan takes the time to shoot Shane a venomous look, to which Shane has the nerve to shrug sheepishly—“is that we must be interpreting this all wrong,”—here Shane nods along—“we know you can’t possibly be… you don’t actually want us to… you, uh, you’re not suggesting...” Ryan just can’t spit it out.

Hauser’s expression is hard as stone as he replies, “It is _exactly_ how you are interpreting it.”

Deafening silence.

“Well?”

“A-Are you for real? Is this… you want me and Shane—” Ryan gestures wildly between them, “—to be in, like, a-a _relationship?”_

“A _pretend_ relationship.”

Ryan and Shane share a stunned look.

“That sounds even more ridiculous!” Shane exclaims. “I mean, who even thought—in what way is this a good idea? Who thinks we’d actually go along with this? Not to toot my own fucking horn—or Ryan’s for that matter—but Unsolved is gaining more and more popularity everyday, who in their right minds thinks this is a good idea? We don’t need to… uh…” Shane glances quickly at Ryan before shifting awkwardly, “We don’t need to pretend we’re… dating.”

“I assure you, this decision was made after extensive research—”

“Extensive research?!” Ryan squeaks out. “Which poor soul has been stuck researching into the fictional relationship between us? Oh Jesus’ balls on a stick, please tell me they didn’t have to read any of the fanfiction! I’ll never be able to look them in the eyes again.” Shane makes a horrified noise in agreement and Ryan takes a moment to breathe. “A-And besides, how can you possibly be certain me and Shane faking a relationship would do Unsolved any good?”

Hauser sighs, as though he can’t believe they are making such a fuss. Now Ryan wants to fucking punch him. “Yes, extensive research. We even published a poll in one of our ‘Unsolved Catch Up’ articles recently about Shyan and asked the fans whether or not they would support you if you both suddenly decided to come out and claim you were together. The feedback was over 95 per cent positive.”

“Good to know our fans aren’t homophobes,” Shane grumbles sarcastically.

Hauser chooses to ignore Shane. “The poll was to ensure you wouldn’t lose a large portion of your viewership if we went ahead with the idea and we can confidently say you would not. You would gain much more than you would lose.”

Ryan shakes his head. “This still doesn’t explain _why_ it would be a good thing. I mean, it’s good to know we wouldn’t lose our fans if either of us ever come out as anything other than straight, but—”

“For starters,” the higher up interrupts, “We anticipate that your current fans, specifically the fans that already support the idea of the two of you together, will only become more invested as a result; meaning a bigger demand for merchandise, resulting in more profit. Free promo, since I’m certain the fans will talk of nothing else for weeks after the announcement. This is how you will gain more viewers; through word of mouth. The two of you announcing your relationship would be massive; new fans would flock to the BuzzFeed channels to find the gay couple that were brave enough to come out to their fans and would offer their support through views, subscriptions, _purchases_.” Ryan cringes here; they wouldn’t be brave, they would be lying while spitting in the faces of those who, for whatever reason, cannot come out. “You would both receive tons of support from new fans as well as old and that’s when your newest series would air.”

Ryan gapes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Plus, the relationship would reflect very well on BuzzFeed as a whole; helps to show that, as a company, we are tolerant and support equal rights in the workplace. And it should keep the more… _vocal_ social justice fans compliant for a while.”

Shane makes a vague sound of disgust that luckily goes unnoticed by their superior. “And if it ever got out that me and Ryan agreed to pretend to be in a relationship for views?” Shane asks, and Ryan notes the tension in his voice.

“It wouldn’t,” Their superior says with such conviction, with such finality, “Every person involved, anyone who would even come close to sniffing out the truth would be asked to sign an NDA.”

“You’re kidding,” Shane insists, unbelieving. This time he isn’t laughing. “This is crazy. You can’t just make two people pretend to be in a relationship for fucking views. There’s just… no way.”

In response, Hauser’s lips curve into a slight smirk that seems pretty damn condescending to Ryan and opens a draw beside his desk. He reaches inside and pulls out two thick folders. He slaps them down on the table and asks, “Do either of you know what these are?” Ryan and Shane share a look. Ryan can read every emotion on Shane’s face, from his helpless confusion to his seething anger, and Ryan wishes he could reassure him. But he is just as lost, just as panicked, and he wants to be reassured just as much. “These are your employment contracts,” Hauser continues when no response is given, then opens one of the folders. “Contracts that you both signed the day you took your jobs here at BuzzFeed.”

It’s his that Hauser forces out of the folder; he catches his familiar signature scribbled on the dotted line on the front page, as well as the date and time. The executive glances at both of them and raises an eyebrow. “I take it that neither of you actually took the time to read your contracts, did you?”

They both shift guiltily and Hauser tuts. Fucking _tuts._

They watch him flip through Ryan’s contract at a leisurely pace, before he finally stops at a particular page and explains, “There is a section in each of your contracts that outlines the rights we, the company, have over the individual in question; for example, how much of their projects we own; how much say we have in the way they present themselves on social media; and, most importantly in this case, the rights we have over their _image_.” Here he turns the contract on the desk so Shane and Ryan have a better view. “We _completely_ own your image. How you present yourself in any BuzzFeed video, what aspects of your personality we feel you should exaggerate or tone down, who you get to work with based on compatibility and popularity, how often you get to interact with your fans. We own that. So yes, to answer your question, Shane, we absolutely can make two BuzzFeed employees fake a relationship if we believe it will benefit the channel and BuzzFeed as a whole.”

Ryan can only remind himself to breathe as he skims over the image rights section. “It’s completely legit, Shane,” Ryan says, disbelieving, and turns to face his friend.

Shane is shaking his head in complete denial. “No. There’s no way. You can’t force us into anything. You’re not even giving us a choice.”

Hauser shrugs, nonchalant. “Of course you both have a choice.” The boys pause. “Either you agree to the changes I’ve proposed, or I fire you,” he puts simply and Ryan’s heart stops. “Your choice.”

 _I can’t lose Unsolved,_ is the first frantic thought in Ryan’s mind. He’s not ready, he still has so many ideas and cases to, well, unsolve and he can’t disappoint his incredible, loyal fans—the Boogaras especially. He has put his entire heart and sweat and soul into this project; it’s his baby. No, Ryan _can’t_ lose Unsolved. He can’t lose the travelling and the late nights researching new cases, new destinations. He can’t lose the cramped aeroplane seats and scaring himself shitless at every creak and shadow. He can’t lose the dingy hotels and the anticipation he feels whenever he gets to use a new paranormal toy for the first time, especially when he knows it will piss Shane off as a bonus. He loves everything about working on Unsolved; the good and the bad. Plus, he still needs to record proof—real, solid evidence—to rub in Shane's face, to finally get him to believe in something more. And—oh God, _Shane_.

_What if I never get to work with Shane again?_

That’s the thought that really gets his mind racing.

Shane, on the other hand, doesn’t seem as alarmed. “You can’t just fire us. You said it yourself, we have the biggest following. Fire us and all you’ll achieve is losing a bunch of subscribers.”

“It would be a big blow,” their superior acknowledges, “But we’ve been monitoring Unsolved for a while now and comparing it to other projects currently on our BuzzFeed channels and we’ve figured out Ryan’s… format, for lack of a better word.” Ryan furrows his brows, confused. “All it would take to make another semi-successful project would be to find and hire two vaguely charismatic people with some chemistry, and from that build on a similar premise.”

Ryan bristles, annoyed at the obvious digs at him and Shane, and that this arrogant asshole honestly believes developing a successful series is that easy.

Shane shrugs with his whole body and Ryan can visibly see his anger in the movement. “Then why don’t you do just that? Get your newbies to fake a relationship while your at it.”

Hauser replies matter-of-factly, “Because it would be the more time-consuming option and I believe you two have more potential.”

Ryan puts his head in his hands and wishes he was back to this morning, where Unsolved is safe and the worst thing he has to do is think up a way of convincing Shane to watch a crappy B-rated horror film that Ryan has been dying to watch for ages, but is too much of a shitfish to watch by himself, before their weekly movie night on Friday. He wants everything to go back to making sense.

“So what will it be gentlemen?”

At the prompt, Ryan hears Shane exhale harshly but he can’t bring himself to move. His head is suddenly pounding from the stress of it all. “There’s… there’s no way we will go through with this, that we’ll allow you to treat us like this, right Ryan?” Shane asks and all Ryan can feel is the building terror at the thought of never being able to work with Shane again; of having everything he’s worked so damn hard for get snatched from his fingers before he can even fight for it. “Uh… right, Ryan…?”

Ryan finally glances up and finds his best friend. He presses shaking fingers to his lips and Shane leans forward on instinct, eyes revealing his concern behind the lens of his glasses.

 _I’m freaking out,_ Ryan dimly notes and tries to will Shane to see his worries, but Shane just looks on, growing more and more concerned.

Without taking his eyes off Shane, Ryan asks Hauser, “Can we have a few minutes? To talk it over.”

“Of course,” Hauser agrees easily and the boys break eye contact in order to stand up. “Please,” Hauser raises a hand to halt their movements, then stands up from his own chair and, in a gesture of false kindness, tells them, “I’ll give you both a few minutes to yourselves.” He crosses the floor with ease and opens his office door. With a last quick look over his shoulder, he closes the heavy door behind him with a loud click.

Shane barely gives Ryan any time to settle back into his seat when he scrapes his chair around to face Ryan. He leans forward when Ryan tries to avoid eye contact, elbows resting on his bony knees. “Ry…” Shane prods gently and Ryan rubs at his forehead in response, his migraine grinding into his temples. “Ryan, look at me. You can’t seriously be contemplating this—”

“Holy shit, Shane,” Ryan breathes out as he repeats in his head all the reasons why going along with this would be a very bad idea, “I-I think I am.” Ryan peers up at Shane, sees his disbelief. “Dude, Hauser just told us it’s all or nothing. I-I’m going to lose—” his breath hitches; he can’t even say it, can’t conceive of a life without his baby.

Shane shakes his head. “There’s… there’s got to be a way…” Shane mutters to himself as he lunges for his own contract.

For a while there is only the sound of Shane flipping through the pages of his contract. Then he growls, frustrated, and throws the contract back on the table. “Fuck.”

“They own our image,” Ryan says, “They fucking own us.” Ryan flops back in his seat and kicks out his leg until his sneaker lines up with one of Shane’s humongous shoes, an unconscious move to try and seek comfort from the person that always provides it, if in a special asshole-y kind of way most of the time. “Shane. I know this is crazy and all kinds of fucked up and I don’t want to give that shitbag any sort of satisfaction… but I can’t lose this.” His eyes implore Shane to understand. He knows Shane loves his job too and would be devastated to leave under such shitty circumstances. “I’ve put everything, _everything,_ into Unsolved, I-I can’t just let them take it from me.”

Shane is quiet for a moment. “What if we try to hire a lawyer?”

“With what money?” Ryan counters. “Any money we earn from Unsolved mostly goes straight back into making it. Besides, we weren’t forced to sign those contracts, just stupid enough not to read them.”

Shane sighs and runs a hand through his wild locks, frustrated, but nods in agreement. “We’d be lying to our fans,” he tries instead.

This is the only argument that really makes Ryan pause. Perhaps they are biased, but Ryan and Shane honestly believe they have the best fans. They are always so willing to interact and share their insight and they’re not in the least bit afraid of making fun of the two of them. They are so loyal, so supportive, it would be hard to lie to them. But it would be harder to say goodbye. “I know. It fucking sucks but if I have to choose between lying to them and keeping Unsolved, or having to say goodbye…” Shane looks away but Ryan carries on, “Shane, I’d hold the fuck out of your hand to fight for my baby.” Shane turns back to him, face still grave but there’s a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. Ryan somehow manages a smile, then looks away to admit, “I… I love working on Unsolved. Shane, I love working with _you_. I know it’s selfish but I’m not ready for it all to end.”

The silence is thick with tension and Ryan tells himself to be patient as his headache finally starts to wane. Talking to Shane always helps to ease his stress-induced headaches.

“Neither am I,” Shane finally responds and the answering relief that Ryan feels leaves him weak.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

There is a small pause where they let it sink in exactly what they have agreed to do.

“Thank you, Shane,” Ryan says quietly, sincerely, “I really owe you.”

“You don’t owe me shit,” Shane states as he pointedly glares at the empty leather chair on the other side of the desk.

“Okay,” Ryan replies, then continues because he cannot believe how lucky he is to have Shane has his co-host, as his best friend, and he feels the need to reassure him, “And you know what? I-I bet it won’t be so bad. They’ll probably just have us admit we’re together or something and then we could say that we’d like our privacy. They may have us sitting a little closer in the Q+A sessions, maybe throw in some hand holding—”

“Ry! Ryan!” Shane interrupts, but there’s a soft smile stretching his lips, “Stop trying to sell it to me. I told you, I’m on board. We’re gettin’ loved up, baby. It’s gettin’ hot in here—ouch!” Shane laughs as he rubs the spot on his arm Ryan just punched. “Okay, okay. In all seriousness though, we’re in this together.”

Ryan gives him a crooked grin. “The ghoul boys. The ghouligans.”

“The ghouligans. The ghouligans are in it together, baby.”

Ryan laughs, because no matter what Shane can always make him laugh. There’s a familiar, glowing warmth in his chest from knowing that Shane doesn’t have to do this, that he could walk out of this building right now flipping everyone off as he goes and never look back, but he won’t because he’s Shane and he has always got Ryan’s back.

He watches Shane lean away and rub at the shadow on his chin and there’s a sudden niggling voice at the back of his head, reminding him that there is also a deeper motivation to all of this; that there is a reason why Ryan has such little difficulty with the notion of them having to pretend to be together. And Ryan can’t deny it. He’s been half in love with the sasquatch since the day they first met. But Ryan knows he would never use this opportunity to take advantage of Shane in any way. He knows where he stands with Shane, and he’s more than happy being his best friend. He won’t allow their current predicament to make Shane in any way uncomfortable.

“Shitbag’s coming,” Shane announces, bringing Ryan out of his thoughts.

There are footsteps outside getting louder and louder and Ryan has to be sure before it is too late. “This is your last chance to back out Sha—“

“The ghouligans, Ryan. Together, remember?”

“Right."

Without speaking they stand and wait.

Hauser politely knocks twice, then opens the office door and leans into the room. He examines them for a moment, then steps fully into the room and closes the door behind him. He clasps his hands behind his back and comments, “You look like you’ve made a decision, gentlemen.”

“We have,” Ryan states, his voice not as strong as he had hoped.

Hauser nods. “And?"

Ryan swallows, nervous. All the reasons why they shouldn’t agree to this come rushing back as he takes in the businessman before him; the formal posture, the wooden expression, the distant eyes. He and Shane are just products to him to use and manipulate and sell. It is hard to remember the reasons why he is about to change his life so dramatically as he stares at a man completely disinterested in the chaos he is about to unleash in their lives. Soon, they will be constantly lying to everyone around them, pretending to be something they are not, for the sake of an organisation that put them in this awful situation to begin with.

“We’ll do it,” Shane declares frostily before Ryan can back out for the two of them. Ryan’s shoulders slump in relief, once again grateful to have Shane by his side.

Hauser grins, pleased. “Excellent!” He strides to his desk and pulls at a draw in his file cabinet. “I’ll let the others know and we’ll get to planning straight away. For now, all I need the two of you to do is sign these NDA forms.”

He holds out two sheets of paper for them to take. Ryan hesitantly reaches for his whereas Shane snatches his like a petulant child, and Ryan loves him a little more for it.

They both take the time to actually read the contract this time. They’ve learnt their lesson. But the contract turns out to be less than two pages long and is quite glaringly just a standard non-disclosure agreement. Once they have finished reading, a pen is waved in each of their faces.

“Satisfied, boys?” Hauser asks and in response they take the proffered pens. “Just sign on the dotted line.”

With a quick glance at each other to reassure themselves one last time, they sign and date the contract, then hand their sheets back over to the awaiting executive. He studies them for a moment, then places them off to one side on his desk. “And that’s everything. For now, at least. I’m glad you decided to make the right decision in the end. Now, unless you have any further questions…?”

Again, Shane and Ryan glance at each other.

“Well, yes. I think we may have a few?” Shane speaks slowly, a little incredulous. “I mean, what are we supposed to do now? How are we meant to act when we get back to the office?”

“For now all you have to do is go back to work and act as normal,” Hauser informs them, as though it will be just that easy, “Nothing has to change just yet. I’ll have Sophie give you a call once everything has been arranged and we’ll go through everything with you then.”

“Oh, um. Okay?” Shane says and turns to Ryan. All Ryan can do is shrug back, dazed by the whole experience. “Then… we’ll just be going…”

“Very well.”

Shane inclines his head towards the door, towards freedom, before starting off in that direction, and Ryan quickly hurries after his large steps. Shane reaches the door and waits there for him with the door held open.

At the door, Ryan pauses for a moment, a sudden thought in his head. He turns back to the higher up who has already dismissed them. “I do have one last question, Mr. Hauser.” Hauser looks up, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. “I’m pretty sure Shyan has been a thing almost as long as Shane’s been on the show, so why now? What made you suddenly target that one particular group of fans?”

Hauser observes him quietly for a moment and usually the stare would be intense enough to make him uncomfortable, but he can feel Shane’s hovering warmth close behind him and it’s enough to settle him.

“After your latest season finale aired,” Hauser starts, “There was a significant increase in the purchase of everything Unsolved. A _very_ significant increase. So much so that we had to investigate. At first we assumed it was the location, the UK has always been your fans’ top choice. But a researcher came back to us insisting all your fans could talk about was Shyan, or rather a particular moment between the two of you during that episode. They apparently even got you trending on Tumblr and Twitter. I assume you both already know which moment I’m talking about.” Ryan’s heart jolts and his eyes widen, he knows exactly which moment Hauser is hinting at. “So, we sat down to look over the data ourselves and came to the same conclusion: Shyan draws in subscribers and produces cash.”

“Oh,” is all Ryan can utter in response, mortified. He can feel his cheeks burning.

“Now,” The higher up says, words clipped, “If that is all?”

“Ah, um, yes, sir.” Ryan stutters but Hauser has already tuned him out.

Without another word, Ryan turns and Shane moves with him. Ryan ducks under Shane’s arm and waits for the taller man to close the office door behind them. Without looking back, because he’d be damned before he lets Shane see how much that moment still affects him, Ryan starts down the hall and curses old buildings and crumbling stairs and his general clumsiness for getting themselves into this mess.

His left ankle has the audacity to give a phantom twinge of pain.

* * *

“… and so here we are, standing on the steps to the entrance of Margam Castle, thought to be the most haunted estate in Wales, maybe even the UK. And, dude, there is so much history here, I know you’ll love it.”

Shane nods and looks at the recording camera. “Yeah, I’ve read a bit of the history behind this place already. Really rich. I’m loving it so far.”

“And he’s not even being sarcastic.”

Shane huffs, smiling, “No I am not.”

Ryan leans against the hand-carved handrail and continues, “Although the estate was only built in 1840, the history surrounding this place goes back much further. There are remnants of settlements on its grounds that date back to the Celts and the Romans. Relics from the Bronze and Iron age have also been found on the grounds as well. There’s even the ruins of an Abbey Chapter House from when the location was used as a religious centre back in the 12th century until its dissolution at the hands of King Henry VIII.”

As Ryan talks, Shane pans out the camera strapped to his chest to capture the acres of green and yellow fields and the pink and gold sunset that lowers gradually behind the canopy of the surrounding forest. TJ keeps his own trained on Ryan. “The land fell mostly into disuse until Liberal politician Christopher Rice Mansel Talbot bought the land and started the development of the estate in 1830, which took ten years to complete. He moved in with his wife, Lady Charlotte Talbot, and they went on to have a son and two daughters.”

Shane levels his camera with Ryan once again, and Ryan is about to continue when something in the distance catches his eyes. He gapes. “Oh, hey, Shane, _look.”_ Ryan points, eyes wide with awe, and Shane turns, fiddling to righten the camera. “You too, TJ.” Ryan encourages and descends the old stone steps, wanting to get closer to the sight.

Ryan hears Shane breathe a quiet, “Oh,” from beside him.

In the distance, weaving in and out of trees, is a small herd of fallow deer. “I think I read somewhere that the herd in this area consists of something close to, like, 300 deer.” Ryan keeps his voice low despite there being little chance of the deer hearing him. For a moment, Shane’s camera is back on him. “They think the herd has lived on this land since at least the Norman times, perhaps even since the Roman occupation.”

Shane whistles, impressed.

The three stay like that for a short while, silent, as they watch the small herd graze and the fawns play. The last of the golden daylight is weakly fighting the growing evening darkness when the last fallow finally disappears behind the dense treeline.

“You know,” Ryan says, voice still a little hushed, “There’s meant to be some peacocks running around the place too.”

“ _Peacocks?”_

“Peacocks.”

Shane chortles. “Just some peacocks having a little stroll, making friends with the ghosties.”

“They’re just chillin’.”

They both wheeze and TJ rolls his eyes at them from behind his camera.

Later, they make their way into a massive study on the second floor of the estate, their flighlights barely illuminating the bare room. It is here TJ suggests that Ryan begin to tell Shane of the different ghosts and hauntings that makes the castle so famous.

“Okay, well, where this place differs from a lot of other haunted locations we’ve been to in the past is that there have never been reports of the Talbot family themselves haunting their own home.”

“No sign of their ghosts?” Shane gasps, eyes exaggeratedly wide and mouth pursed to form an ‘o’ shape.

“Shut up, you ass.” Ryan deadpans. Shane raises his hands, tries to look innocent, and Ryan completely ignores him. “But, in all honesty, the family mostly died of old age and peacefully in their sleep. I mean, there isn’t really any reason why their spirits would linger. It’s their staff that’s causing problems—well, in the house at least. There’s—" Something brushes against his shoulder and Ryan lets out a high-pitched shriek and scurries to Shane’s side.

“Jesus Christ, Ryan!”

“Holy shit, dude,” Ryan pants, his heart trying to backflip out of his chest. “I swear, something— _someone_ just brushed my shoulder.”

“Sounds more like they were twisting your balls, man.”

“Sh-Shut up, Shane,” he retorts, voice trembling as he tries to calm himself down. His hand reaches up to pull nervously at his beanie.

“Look, it was probably the wind.”

“We’re indoors!”

“Castles are draughty, Ryan.”

“The wind—I swear to God, one day Madej…” Ryan leaves it at that, mostly because Shane is laughing at him and not taking him the least bit seriously.

Ryan takes one last, deep breath, fingers still quivering around his flashlight. He’s been startled and spooked in enough haunted locations and has had more than his fair share of panic attacks over the years that it doesn’t take him long to calm down. Plus Shane is near, and despite the intense urge he has to strangle the gangly fucker, Shane’s presence has always made him feel protected. Ryan allows himself a moment to picture himself reaching out and wrapping his arms around one of Shane’s, lets himself imagine burying his face into his bicep as Shane’s other arm curves around him and cups the back of his head, fingers gently weaving through Ryan’s short tresses, comforting him. There, that’s better. “Okay,” Ryan says through a weary sigh. “Uh, where was I?”

Shane shrugs.

“Very fucking helpful.”

TJ has to speak up to remind him and Ryan thanks him pointedly. Shane continues to look disinterested as the beam of light from his flashlight lazily scans the study room.

“Um, right, so. There are a few of the Talbot’s old household staff that people have claimed to have seen. There’s a young kitchen maid who, it is believed, hung herself from the banister of one of the servant staircases in the late 1840’s. You can apparently hear her footsteps on the staircases and some have even reported hearing weeping in the corridors closest to the kitchen. There are a couple of servant children too, seen dressed in Victorian clothing. The sound of children playing and giggling has often been reported throughout the corridors and the larger rooms of the castle. They say you can only see the children from the corner of your eyes as they dart from room to room, almost like they’re making a game of it.”

“So we’ll be dealing with a bunch of unruly kids all night?” Shane questions. “Ryan, even for you this should be easy.”

Ryan glares. “I haven’t got to the most famous ghost yet. The reason Margam Castle has a reputation for being one of the most haunted places in the UK is because it claims to host a very active poltergeist.” Shane makes a face and Ryan glares harder. “Robert Scott has the most sightings, by far. He was a gamekeeper for the Talbot family for many years until he was fatally shot by the gun of a poacher—who, by the way, got off scot-free. Oh, err, no pun intended.”

Shane guffaws and his arms come up to wrap around his hitching stomach. Ryan, with familiar butterflies flittering in his stomach, can’t help but grin fondly, proud of himself.

“You liked that one?”

Shane nods as he rubs a knuckle against his eye. “I did.”

Ryan shakes his head, his cheeks aching from the stretch of his smile. _“Anyway,”_ Ryan exaggerates as he tries to get back on track. “Robert Scott is known for being pretty vicious. He slams doors and moves chairs and is known to throw stuff like rocks at you if you try to communicate with him. He’s been sighted mostly by the entryway staircase and has been said to give off a sense of torment and is always consumed with rage when he’s felt, to the point where psychic investigators have had to leave the building from either feeling too dizzy and sick to continue or because they become filled with the same rage and lash out at the people around them.”

Ryan looks to Shane for any sort of reaction, but Shane just hums, obviously underwhelmed.

Ryan rolls his eyes; _what else did_ _I_ _expect?_

“There’s been other sightings as well of ghosts on the grounds outside. There’s meant to be a headless praying monk in the ruins of the Abbey Chapter House, and a large figure of a blacksmith the gardening staff see regularly. There’s also reports of dark figures in the forest, always at a higher level than you like they’re trying to scope you out, and people claim they belong to bludgeoned Celts looking to exact revenge on Roman soldiers.”

“So,” Shane draws out the word, “Don’t go into the woods wearing a tunic and cassis helmet while holding a scutum?”

Ryan wheezes. “Pretty much.”

“I have a question,” Shane announces and lets his flashlight sweep the room once more. “Why is this room so bare? All the other rooms we’ve been in so far have been lavished with period furniture and decorations.”

Ryan lets his own light scan the empty room. “That’s because back in 1977 a huge fire started that gutted the entire interior of the second floor. And it started in this room.” Shane makes a vague sound of interest in the back of his throat. “They’re still renovating parts of this floor, which is probably why they haven’t bothered decorating this room yet. What’s interesting is that no one really knows how the fire started, since at the time it wasn’t open to the public and was pretty much left to rot. But one psychic investigator claims that during a seance, Robert Scott admitted to starting the fire.”

“Oh, come on—don’t even—” Shane interjects, having none of it, “—even you don’t believe that, Ryan.”

“I’m just putting it out there,” Ryan defends as he fights back a grin.

“Right,” Shane says and tilts his head toward Ryan in a very disappointed manner. Ryan has to cover his mouth with his hand, but he can’t keep the grin from crinkling his eyes. “A ghost can’t do any more than breathe in your ear or tap on a window when you want to communicate with it, but it can fucking commit arson and torch an entire floor of a castle down using sheer force of will? Why would this Mr. Scott want to do that anyway, this is his home? Does he want to be homeless? Does he want to haunt a pile of rubble?”

“He’s a _poltergeist,_ Shane, not just any old ghost,” Ryan argues, “He can pick shit up or chuck you down the freaking stairs or, I don’t know, burn his house down if he’s feeling revengeful enough.”

Shane squints his eyes. “But who would he even be getting revenge on? The guy who killed him, his ghost isn’t even here, right? He’d just be cutting his nose off to spite his face.”

“He’s angry!”

“He’s angry so he’ll burn his own house down and make himself homeless?”

Ryan lets out an aggravated sigh and he sees Shane grin impishly, as he always does when he knows he’s getting under Ryan’s skin. Ryan fixes him with a firm stare and responds calmly, “I’m just gonna say ghosts see things differently to us, they have a completely different reality, and leave it at that.”

But Shane has to take it a step further. “But how do you know this if all you ever get out of your ghosts is that stupid constipated grunting your little toy picks up—”

“Jesus Christ.” Ryan may love Shane with all that he is worth but there are times when he could actually, genuinely murder the guy. He turns from his smirking co-host and makes a beeline for the corridor, “I’m getting out of this goddamn room before I chuck you out of one of the windows.”

Shane follows and laughs the entire way.

“You know, Ryan—“ Shane catches up to him in, like, two steps, and Ryan can barely stifle an exasperated groan, “—that’s a lot of ghouls you just listed. We should meet most of them tonight, right? That’s what you’re hoping? If that’s the case, you think there’s a chance you could _actually_ pee yourself tonight, Ryan?”

God, life would be so much easier if Ryan hated the guy. “What if you go fuck yourself, how about that?” Ryan retorts, but Shane’s grin is infectious and Ryan finds himself smiling up at him. “Or, since we’re in Britain, piss off you wank bucket.”

“ _Wank bucket.”_

They both howl with laughter.

Ryan tries to catch his breath but just ends up giggling through an explanation, “Yeah. In the pub we stopped at on the way here, there were a group of guys behind us and I heard one of them call the other a wank bucket and I knew I had to use it on you at some point.” They are both giggling like two little gossiping school girls at this point.

“The Brits have the best insults.”

“Very imaginative,” Ryan agrees.

They just start to calm down when Shane nudges Ryan in the shoulder with his elbow. “But in all seriousness, Ry,”—and Ryan knows what’s coming—“What are the chances of you pissing yourself tonight?”

Ryan scrunches his face up, tries to look annoyed, but he is still smiling. They come to an indented staircase and Ryan starts down the steps first. “Put it this way,” he answers and feels Shane close behind him, “If I actually see Robert the Poltergeist tonight, I will absolutely, one hundred percent, on camera, pee myself, then take a running fucking jump on to you. Get you all pissy too.”

Shane laughs so hard that his eyes begin to squint and it’s this expression that Ryan loves most on Shane. “I’d drop you before you could wrap yourself around me,” Shane declares through his wheezes.

“Nope,” Ryan states firmly and shakes his head for added emphasis, “Not happening. I’d cling so fucking hard. You’d never get me off.”

“What would clinging to me even _achieve?”_

Ryan glances back at him and points downwards. Shane’s eyes follow his finger and drop to his own legs. “Your sesquach legs would get us out of here and back to our hotel safe and sound in, like, five steps.”

“Five steps,” Shane repeats.

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Shane’s expression is so undeniably fond as he gazes down at him that Ryan falters, his sudden nerves making his knees weak, and his foot completely misses a step. He falls. His stomach drops abruptly and he flings his arms out in a desperate attempt to find the railing, but instead it just leaves the back of his head vulnerable to the wall it collides with on the way down. Stars, big and little and multi-coloured, burst into his vision and it throws him so completely he almost doesn’t feel his ankle tuck awkwardly, painfully, under his other leg for a one blinding second, before he finally rolls to a stop on his back at the bottom of the stone staircase.

“Ryan! Oh shit, oh fuck.”

His world is dark and fuzzy and painful. He blinks, and it clears his vision slightly, so he blinks again and again until he notices a broad blurry figure beside him, towering over him. He whimpers in fright and squeezes his eyes shut. “Shane!” He croaks out, an undeniable quaver in his voice. He sounds desperate and vulnerable.

“I’m here, Ry. I’m here.”

Ryan wants to cry out in relief, to demand him closer, but he doesn’t need to. Shane’s presence suddenly envelops him completely like a much loved time-worn blanket and Ryan finds it solacing and safe.

“Do—shit, should I move him?”

“I-I don’t know, man. What if he’s concussed?”

_Oh, TJ’s here?_

Ryan slowly opens his eyes, gives himself a moment to adjust to the dark, and finally finds Shane and TJ knelt either side of him, Shane bent closely over his prone form. They both look scared and concerned and Ryan has a strong urge to reassure them any way he can, but he doesn’t know how or what is even going on or why they seem so distressed in the first place.

“Hey, baby,” Shane manages to utter, voice soft as a whisper, when he notices Ryan looking back at them. Ryan’s eyes fix solely on him. Shane bends down even closer and holds his hand up in Ryan’s line of vision. He keeps his voice low and soft as he asks, “Can you tell me how many fingers I’m holding up, Ry?”

Ryan blankly blinks up at the fingers in front of him, then raises his own hand and links their fingers together. And of course, it’s at this moment his memories decide to fucking show themselves. They are in the UK, currently recording at a haunted location, he fell down the fucking stairs like a fucking dipshit, and, because that isn’t embarrassing enough, he’s mistaken Shane wanting to help him with Shane wanting to hold his hand.

“Help me up,” Ryan mutters, humiliated and already willing to ignore that this ever happened.

He’s still shaky and sore and when neither of his friends move, he forcefully uses their clasped hands to pull himself into a sitting position. His head and ankle thump viciously to the rhythm of his heartbeat and he hopes Shane assumes that Ryan was just using his hand as leverage the whole time.

“Ryan,” TJ calls, cautious, “I’m not sure if you should be movi—“

“Oh, crap!” A thought hits him like lightening and he begins to fret. “Is my camera okay?!” Ryan snatches his hand back from Shane and starts frantically patting down his chest where his own camera, just like Shane’s, is strapped, but he can’t tell whether or not the lens has been cracked in the fall.

“The camera? _R_ _eally_ Ryan—?” Shane grasps Ryan’s wrists in both his hands and stills Ryan’s jerky, desperate movements. Ryan startles and his eyes snap up to stare at the larger man. “—I don’t really give a shit about your camera right now. Ryan, are _you_ okay?”

“Huh?” He thinks Shane sounds rattled and looks upset and it’s all Ryan can focus on. “Oh, uh… yeah?”

Shane just looks at him, his disbelief palpable.

“I, uh, I mean…” He shakes his head and, whoa, does _that_ make his world spin. He tucks his chin into his chest and hopes for the dizzy spell to pass quickly. Uncomfortable and feeling slightly nauseated, he gently, regrettably, breaks Shane’s hold on his wrists, and tries to shift on the cold floor, but a burning pulse of pain rockets though his left foot, up his leg, and churns his stomach. The pain leaves him gripping his left knee and gasping out, “M-My ankle hurts.”

“Your ankle?” Shane creeps closer and his hand hovers over the abused ankle, but doesn’t settle. “Okay,” Shane nods, then repeats the word a second time like he’s trying to comfort himself as much as Ryan, “Okay. TJ?” At his name, TJ jumps to attention. “Can you call the tour guide from this morning for me? Let Angelina know what’s happened. She said she’d be on the grounds all night in case something happened, so she should be able to call a first aider or whatever to come and take a look at him.”

“Yeah, sure.” TJ is quick to agree, his worry for Ryan apparent, then he whips out his phone, stands up, and walks a small distance away to call Angelina.

“I don’t think calling Angelina is all that nec—”

“Are you hurting anywhere else? You seemed a little out of it just now; did you hit your head?” Shane interrupts and his hand moves from his ankle to hover near his jaw instead, never actually touching Ryan. And Ryan wishes he could lean in, let Shane cup his face in his big palm, but luckily he hasn’t hit his head hard enough to lose all sense.

“My head? Oh, um, no,” Ryan lies because Shane is already worrying enough as it is and he’s pretty sure he isn’t concussed. He hopes.

“Good,” Shane breathes out and the strength of his relief slumps his shoulders and smooths out the worry lines along his forehead.

Hurried footsteps make their way closer to the two still on the cold floor and they both turn, Ryan subtly blinking away another wave of dizziness, and they spot TJ heading back towards them. “Angelina says she’s a first aider,” TJ starts as soon as he’s close enough, “The only problem is she’s on the other side of the property and it could take her anywhere between twenty to thirty minutes to get to us, so I told her we’d try to meet her outside the castle’s entrance if we think he’s okay enough to move.”

“I am,” Ryan is quick to answer before Shane can get a word in, “I’ll just… I’ll need a bit of support.”

Shane sighs but doesn’t argue. “Okay, fine. TJ, you take one side and I’ll take the other.”

“No. No way.” Ryan clenches his jaw, stubborn, and stays unyielding even when Shane turns to frown down at him in frustration. “No way is TJ leaving his brand new, super expensive camera here by itself where anything can happen to it.”

“But-But if I take my camera, I won’t be able to help carry you.”

Ryan is about to retort when Shane huffs out an irritated, “Oh, for the love of—” and then there are long arms surrounding him, one pressed into the middle of his back as another gently prises his legs open to tuck neatly behind his knees. “Wrap your arms around my neck,” Shane orders sharply and Ryan quickly obeys, despite his racing mind screaming at him, because Shane looks just about done with everybody’s shit.

Shane’s arms tighten suddenly and Ryan is instantly weightless.

“Shane, what are you—whoa—holy— _wow_.”

Ryan’s nose brushes Shane’s neck and he’s so completely overwhelmed with Shane’s presence unexpectedly all around him at once that he barely feels the sharp twinge his ankle gives when it is jostled by the lift. Ryan’s arms tighten instinctively around Shane’s neck and all he can do is stare up at Shane’s handsome profile, his heart fluttering like crazy. “Shane’s been working out,” Ryan thinks, but then Shane is looking down at him with a stupid twinkle in his eye and a grin too self-assured and Ryan realises he didn’t think it at all.

“ _Thank you_ for noticing, Ryan,” Shane gloats and Ryan blushes, “But my new workout schedule has little to do with my ability to carry you. You’re just so small you barely weigh a feather.”

“I’m average height, you freak of nature!”

Shane just chuckles and glances over at TJ. “Got everything?” At TJ’s nod, Shane juts his chin at Ryan. “Seeing as I’ve got my hands full, give him one of the flashlights.”

TJ hands Ryan a flashlight. Ryan turns it on and settles the flashlight on his stomach, making sure the beam of light points down the corridor he knows leads to the exit. He then wraps his arms back around Shane and they start off down the corridor.

Ryan glances out at the darkness, then at Shane, then back out at the darkness, and when Shane shifts him gently in his hold, Ryan can’t help it.

He laughs.

Shane’s head snaps to the side to face him and Ryan tilts his head right back, still laughing, over the arm supporting him and thankfully this time the dizziness isn’t so bad; now it feels more like coming off a fast ride at Disneyworld.

“Uhhh… Ry?” Shane asks, hesitant. “What’s so funny?”

Ryan lifts his head back up and his dark eyes glimmer with humour. “I just… what a way to end the series.”

Shane lets a small smile grace his soft features and looks back out towards the direction they are heading. “At least the season finale will finish with a twist no one saw coming,” Shane teases.

Ryan wheezes and tightens his hold around Shane’s neck. He catches a glimpse of TJ and his camera over Shane’s shoulder, the camera pointed steadily at the two of them. “Let’s hope TJ’s at least getting a good angle of this trainwreck.” Shane snickers above him. “But hey,” Ryan continues as his voice takes on a lighter note, and he unclasps a hand from around Shane’s neck to grip the camera around his chest, and despite its tight restrains, he somehow manages to jiggle the camera up and down. “At least from my angle Shaniacs can pretend your carrying them.”

Shane looks at him like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or be very, very concerned. “You sure you didn’t hit your head?”

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan demands with a delighted smile and leans his tired head against Shane’s broad shoulder.

It doesn’t take them much longer to reach the entrance of the estate. TJ pushes the grand doors open just as Angelina reaches the steps to the entrance.

With her steady hands and professional manner, it doesn’t take Angelina long to check his ankle and deem it sprained. Ryan is beyond relieved and thanks the older woman profusely. It only takes a matter of minutes for her to wrap his ankle up expertly with the items in the small first aid kit she carries with her.

When she is done, she sits back and gives him a pointed look that makes Ryan freeze, because he knows exactly what is coming next. When she finally demands to see his other injuries, because apparently she has the nose of a bloodhound when it comes to idiots and their injuries, Ryan has to come clean and admit he hit his head too. So, Angelina checks his head as well and quickly declares him concussion-free, but warns him that he will likely have a constant headache for the next twenty-four hours.

But the headache that eventually comes is nothing in comparison to the chastising he receives from Shane later, back at their hotel, that leaves Ryan red-faced and pouting.

Luckily, by the time they are back in the States, Shane is talking to him again and Shane snorts when he catches Ryan in the office one day struggling to edit the little footage they captured at Margam Castle.

“You’re actually going to put your fall in?”

Ryan shrugs and scratches at the new dressing on his foot. “I promised the fans an extra episode this season and I intend to deliver.” Ryan frowns at the screen. “I’m thinking of making this more like a blooper thing rather than an actual serious episode.”

“Since when do we make serious episodes?”

Ryan gives him a filthy look.

Shane hums and watches Ryan edit quietly for a few minutes. “Should give ‘em a laugh, at least.”

“Yeah, I think I’m ready for the ridicule that’s about to be handed to me.” Ryan glances at Shane and finds that Shane is already looking back, expression soft. Ryan smiles at him. “But apart from a bit of teasing from our mouther fans, what harm can it do?”

A lot, it turns out. But neither of them will know this until it is far too late.

* * *

Someone nudges his shoulder.

Ryan blinks rapidly, his overworked brain screeching to a halt, and turns and flinches back when a mug full of hot, strong smelling coffee is thrust in his face.

“Shane?” Ryan questions and removes his headphones from his ears. “For me?”

“You haven’t blinked in the last hour. Take a break and drink the coffee,” Shane commands. He shoves the mug even closer to Ryan’s face and begins to sway the mug back and forth right under Ryan’s nose in what Shane probably thinks is an enticing manner.

“Wha—Shane!”

Ryan pushes gently at Shane’s arm, careful of the steaming hot drink held over his defenceless body, and Shane grins down at him and places the mug on the desk in front of Ryan. Shane then hooks a leg under his desk chair and rolls it nearer to Ryan’s workstation and settles into the seat next to Ryan, his own mug of coffee already on the desk waiting for him.

Ryan picks up the warm mug in both hands and knows even before he takes his first sip that the coffee will be perfect. Shane knows exactly how he likes it. “Hmm,” Ryan hums, and his shoulders start to loosen as he feels his body begin to warm and relax. “Thanks, dude.”

“Mhm.”

They both sit in silence for a few minutes, Ryan idly tapping his foot against one of Shane’s, content to simply be together.

Then a whirlwind bursts through the office doors, one of the doors ricocheting loudly off a wall, and Steven Lim stands in the doorway, eyes frantically searching the room until his eyes fall on them.

Steven grins.

Ryan grimaces.

Steven bounds towards them without a care for the dozens of eyes trying to glare a hole through his head. He screeches to stop in front of them, steals some poor asshole’s desk chair, and somehow manages to squeeze the chair between the two of them and finally flops gracelessly into it. All the while his grin never falters and Ryan is rightfully wary.

He and Shane share a look over Steven’s head and he finds that Shane is just as suspicious.

“How’s it going, Steven?” Shane enquires, cautious.

Steven grins even wider. “Guess what?”

“What?” Ryan asks flatly.

Steven stretches his arms high above his head, then lets each one fall limply over the backs of their chairs. “I’ve just been given the green light.”

Ryan tenses in shock. “What? You? Now?”

“Yep. Me. Now.”

Ryan thumps his half empty mug on the tabletop, slumps back in his chair and tries not to have a mini panic attack.

It has been two weeks since Ryan and Shane have decided to keep their jobs at BuzzFeed by agreeing to be in a fake romantic relationship with one another, and it has been another three days since said relationship was announced to the rest of the office. Hauser explained that the lower level of staff, like the interns, will not be informed of the relationship being fabricated; they are to believe the both of them are in a real relationship to keep up the authenticity of the claim. The people they work closest with, however, such as Jen and Steven and TJ and Sara, have been told the truth. Hauser is convinced that having their closest colleagues and friends at BuzzFeed know the truth will make it easier to sell their relationship to their audience.

And of course, they all had to sign NDA’s.

Nothing has happened since the announcement. Hauser has barely mentioned any sort of strategy and has only revealed that he and the other executives want to start slowly; he had used the word seeding. The executives want to use one of their colleagues’ social media accounts to start seeding the idea that they could be more than friends. But other than that, Hauser has merely assured them that he will keep in touch.

“What did they tell you?” Shane sounds ridiculously calm while Ryan’s heart is trying to beat its way up his throat and out of his mouth.

Steven’s grin softens. “The bossman said I’ve got to take a picture with the two of you in the background. Make it look like I accidentally caught you being all lovey-dovey or something.”

“Okay.” Ryan gulps and runs his sweaty palms down his thighs. “Did they tell you what they want us to do or—?”

Steven shakes his head. “Just said to make it look convincing. It has to go through them and be approved before I can post it online. Hauser said he wants it on my Twitter and Instagram today, sometime after seven, when they know everyone’s going to be home from college or work or whatever.”

Shane brushes a hand roughly through his hair and Ryan hates the way his heart twists with affection when Shane’s hand falls away and leaves a few stray golden-brown locks sticking up haphazardly. “Right. Okay. So do you have a plan?” Shane asks Steven.

“I do have an _idea_ ,” Steven confirms and tries to spin his stolen chair in a circle only to be blocked on both sides by Shane and Ryan’s knees. Steven pouts and squirms in the chair for a moment before an impatient huff from Ryan has him promptly explaining, “Okay, so, I thought I could take a couple of random pictures of the office before I come to yours. Make it look like I’m getting a little sentimental about my job and the projects I’ve made over the years and the friends I’ve made along the way, blah blah blah and all that shit.”

“Sounds just like the sentimental Steven we all know and love.” Ryan grins sarcastically.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, like I said, I take a couple of snaps, then I give you a signal to let you know when to get down and dirty, and the shit gets done. Simple as, really.” Steven sweeps his arms out in front of him with a flourish and looks at them as though he expects a pat on the back.

Shane rests his elbow on Ryan’s desk and his head on his fist and raises an eyebrow at Steven. “When you say ‘get down and dirty’… what exactly are you expecting us to do?”

Ryan tries his hardest to fight off the blush he feels burning up his neck as Steven gives an easy-going shrug. “Don’t know, it’s up to you.”

Shane and Ryan glance at each other and Ryan’s blush really isn’t going away no matter how much he wills it. “W-Well we don’t know either,” Ryan stutters and wishes for the axeman to come waltzing through the office doors right now and put Ryan out of his misery. Ryan would even offer to put on some jazz music first as a special thanks. Hell, he would even take razor boy over continuing this conversation. “You’re supposed to be the one with the plan.”

Steven groans and slumps in his seat. “Oh, I don’t know, just fucking kiss?”

“What? No—”

“Jesus, Steven—”

“You are worryingly blasé about this—”

Ryan can’t help himself. “Blasé, fancy boy?”

Shane plants his feet, leans all the way forward to get as close to Ryan as possible, and looks completely indignant as he demands, “Whats wrong with the word—?”

“Fine!” Steven interrupts, a little desperately. “No kissing. I don’t know then, just snuggle or look deep into each others eyes or something.”

A buzzing noise makes all three pause.

Ryan glances behind him and finds his phone alight and vibrating next to his laptop. He reaches over and realises it is his alarm. “Oh shit. I forgot I’ve got an appointment with the eye doctor.” Ryan switches the alarm off and glances at his two friends. “Looks like this will have to wait until I get back.”

Ryan picks up his car keys and stands up, and that’s when Steven seems to have an epiphany.

“Hey, wait—no! This is perfect!” Steven exclaims and gestures animatedly towards a perplexed Shane, “You should give Shane a kiss goodbye!”

“Did we not just specifically say no kiss—”

“No, no, just like a kiss on the cheek or something.”

Ryan hesitates and looks to Shane for a reaction.

Shane shrugs a shoulder at Ryan and seems to think it over for a moment. “Seems harmless enough,” he decides, and Ryan wishes he could be as detached from this whole experience as Shane seems to be. But then again, it’s his own fault for falling for someone that he knows, has always known, he will never end up with. “And since we’re going for an are-they-aren’t-they sort of scenario, I don’t think it would be too much of a giveaway, but isn’t subtle enough for people to just brush off as platonic either.”

Ryan still hesitates. He can’t fault Shane’s logical reasoning. For once. But the thought of kissing Shane, even just a peck, and have it mean nothing to the other man is simply gutting. He really hasn’t thought through the repercussions of agreeing to this mess.

“Oh come on, Ryan. It’s just a little kiss!” Steven whines.

Ryan glares and crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “It’s weird, okay? It’s not every day I get pictured kissing Shane.”

Steven grins and waggles his eyebrows up and down, looking like a complete fool. “Oh, so you’d be more comfortable without the camera?”

Shane snickers, the traitor, and Ryan can only mumble out an embarrassed, “Shut up, Shane,” while glaring at the two idiots he calls friends. Finally, Ryan sighs. “Fine. But we’ve got to be quick, I don’t want to be late for my appointment.”

“Great!” Steven jumps up from his seat, his cell already in his grasp. “I’m gonna stand by Jen’s station, take a couple of random snaps, then I’ll give you the thumbs up, Ryan. And then you can take it from there, _loverboy_. _”_ Steven teases and risks his health when he follows up his teasing with an exaggerated wink.

“Just get on with it,” Ryan grits out through clenched teeth as his blush returns with vengeance.

Steven makes his way toward Jen’s empty desk and Ryan turns to Shane. Without Steven, there is an almost suffocating heaviness between them and all Ryan can do is awkwardly scuff his shoe against the carpeted floor and avoid Shane’s gaze. Instead, he keeps his attention solely on Steven.

From where he has planted himself in Jen’s chair, Steven gives Ryan the thumbs up and Ryan’s heart picks up. He squeezes his fingers into a fist and his keys bite into his palm from the force. He risks a glance at Shane, suddenly painfully shy, and finds Shane peering at him with a little, curious tilt to his head.

 _Come on, Bergara._ He psychs himself up and slowly shuffles closer to Shane. _You’re doing this for Unsolved. You’re_ both _doing this for Unsolved._

For a moment, all either of them can do is stare. Then Shane grins and gives Ryan a quick wink. Unlike Steven’s, Shane’s wink feels encouraging. “This is it, baby,” Shane says softly, playfully,  _reassuringly_ , “You’re mine now.”

And, of course, it makes Ryan laugh; just a little huff, but it’s there, and Ryan really, really loves the man in front of him.

“Okay. I’m, uh… I’m coming in?”

“… Ryan…”

“I know, can we please forget I ever said that?”

“Yes. Gladly.”

With a quick glance at Steven, who is being surprisingly patient with his phone held ready, Ryan takes a deep, comforting breath, then leans in, puckers his lips slightly, and kisses Shane for the first time.

 _H_ _e’s warm,_ Ryan thinks, a little delirious with excitement. It’s only a brief moment of contact and is the lightest of touches against the thin skin of Shane’s cheekbone, but it fills him with such a sense of rightness that his heart grows and expands to the point where it becomes difficult for Ryan to breathe. His nose presses awkwardly into the frame of Shane’s glasses, his lips tremble, his keys continue to bite into his palm and it’s perfect. Just perfect.

Ryan pulls away slightly and his reluctance shows in every movement, but Shane’s eyes make him instantly pause. Shane’s features are carefully blank but his big brown eyes are alive with something Ryan can’t name, and it’s impossibly intense and it’s almost too much for him to bare.

“Guys, I got a perfect angle!” Steven announces and with a strangled gasp, Ryan rips his eyes away from Shane and fully straightens up. He is trembling all over and he really needs to leave. “Want to take a look before I send it off to the big boss?”

“I-I really need to get go—“ Ryan tries but Steven has already thrust his phone in Ryan’s face.

It really is a good angle. He and Shane are right at the back of the picture in the left hand corner. With the amount of people in the picture, it would take an observant fan to find them. Hauser, the shitbag, should love it; it was subtle, but definitely there. Ryan stares, lets himself dwell for a moment on how good they look as a couple, then glances away and clears his throat. “Looks good,” he compliments.

“Let me see,” comes Shane’s voice from right behind him and Ryan flinches when a big hand settles on one of his shoulders. Shane leans the top half of his body against Ryan’s back and peers down at their picture. “Looks good,” Shane echoes and Ryan is absolutely fucked.

“I know, right?” Steven states humbly and glances down at the image. “Your fans are gonna freak.”

This, it turns out, is a _bit_ of an understatement.

The picture, along with Steven’s random snaps, are posted to Steven’s Twitter and Instagram accounts at exactly 19:30 that evening, and to the honest-to-God shock of Ryan and Shane and the entire BuzzFeed workforce, the internet _explodes_.


End file.
